


You Ask I Answer: Husband Edition!!!

by Inkblooded_Witch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romance, Teacher Castiel, YouTuber Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-09 09:49:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14713784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkblooded_Witch/pseuds/Inkblooded_Witch
Summary: Castiel, a social studies teacher at a small town high school, is content with his mild-mannered existence. Unfortunately, when you’re married to someone who’s quasi-famous it’s virtually impossible to remain under the radar indefinitely. Destiel, future Sabriel, Youtuber!Dean and Teacher!Castiel.WARNING: Irregular updates!





	1. VOL 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to work on this particular plot bunny for a while, and naturally it doubled in size as I worked on it.  
> Confession: This from yet another prompt found on, wait for it, Pinterest. :P It can also be found on Instagram. The finished product is mine but all props for the original idea go to whoever made the original post.  
> https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/764486105468785638/  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BLqUdNOhqTI/

    Castiel glanced up as he set a stack of folders on his desk, the warning bell ringing as his homeroom class began to trickle in. Not for the first time he saw a group of girls gathered around a cell phone currently serving communal purposes. The giggling had drawn his attention, and he smiled wryly. There was more clamor as teenagers began sliding into desks, for all half of them had their attention on their own phones, but he knew what they were watching. He’d know that voice anywhere, and it wouldn’t be the first time he’d heard it here. Many of his students were fans of one particular, local YouTuber. There weren’t many such people in Sioux Falls, after all.

    For his part Castiel was intimately aware of Dean Winchester’s work, though not because he spent hours watching every video on his channel. Impala67 had many followers and even more viewers. He was sociable, comedic, and had a way of telling stories that was very entertaining. His videos covered a wide range of things, from stories to reviews on various movies or products to cooking. These days he’d gotten good enough that he didn’t technically have to work, though he kept a part time position at a mechanic shop. For all his stories, almost all of which had actually happened to him over the years, he kept most of his private life private. This, unfortunately, resulted in even more pining. Even Castiel was aware of all the speculation his students made regarding him and his currently obscured love life, which was almost as irksome as having grown adults do the same thing. They, at least, had fully developed brains.

    As was his habit, Castiel allowed the cellular indulgence until the final bell rang. Most of them put their phones away after that anyway, but a few lingered. Castiel put that day’s power point up onto the drop screen, then gave stacks of handouts to everyone sitting in the front row to pass back. To his annoyance they were still very intent on the video, four of them all together.

    Heaving a quiet sigh, Castiel set down the extra handouts and made his way to the back cluster of desks. He could hear Dean’s dialogue now, well enough to tell which video it was before he caught a glimpse of the title. It was the ‘Never Have I Ever’ video. A week prior to its filming Dean had asked for suggested questions, and he’d picked ten of the few hundred to use, though the numbers weren’t quite so staggering once he’d removed the repeats. They were almost halfway through the twenty-minute video, and Dean was in the middle of reneging how he’d gotten a speeding ticket.

    For what it was worth, the rest of the class was aware of Castiel’s approach. They were smirking, watching, a few were snickering, but no one moved to intercept or warn the girls. None of them looked up, too focused on their video.

    Castiel stopped next to them, folding is arms, waiting. Still ignoring him one of them asked absently, “I wonder what kind of car he drives.”

    He grimaced at that. Thankfully Dean hadn’t made a video for Baby yet, despite numerous requests. He’d tried, actually, but so far the shortest he’d been able to get one was a full hour. Castiel had managed to extract a promise that he wouldn’t post it until he could at least get it down to forty-five minutes, which was the length of his longest video thus far.

    “Do not get Dean Winchester started on his car,” Castiel stated, making them start as he announced his presence. “Ever. He will never shut up.”

    With that he plucked the offending device from the girl’s fingers, turned it off, and headed back towards the front of his classroom.

    “You can get this back when class is over. Please turn to chapter six. Today we’re starting on the Mongol Empire.”

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    “Have you seen it yet? It’s hilarious.”

    “No,” was the whining response. “What’s it called?”

    “’How To Not Screw Up an Omelet’.”

    “Is it good?”

    “I just said it was.”

    “I meant the omelet.”

    “Of course it was.”

    Castiel rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his coworkers at the next table as he chewed. At least now he had the refreshing experience of hearing two males discussing Dean Wincher’s work. For what it was worth, though, Dean _was_ a good cook. That particular series of videos were focused on the best ways to make cheap, often easy meals. Castiel knew for experience they were lifesavers for people who had little money and even less time but also wanted to avoid frequenting drive-throughs. And yes, the omelet was good. For all it had a quarter cup of bacon bits for every two eggs and almost as much cheese.

    A true testament to those particular co-worker’s devotion was that they were both eating prep meals from some of Dean’s earlier videos. Not for the first time Castiel wondered if anyone ever noticed his own lunches, despite the fact word had gotten around his culinary skills were limited. Today, for example, was reheated broccoli and cheese soup with a turkey sandwich in a roll. Still stowed in his lunch bag was a brownie, made from scratch. His husband had decided before they were even married that he couldn’t tolerate Castiel bringing PB&J’s with pork rinds and oatmeal cream pies to work every single day for lunch, without fail.

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    Castiel glanced at his phone as he stepped out of his classroom, eyes skimming over the text before he pocketed it. The halls were already swarming with students on their way to lunch, the first wave making its way to the cafeteria. He began making his way towards the front office, not for the first time irritated that it was in the building farthest from where he held his Social Studies classes.

    As it was, Castiel only had to step out of the building and look across the courtyard to see who he was looking for. Unfortunately they were currently surrounded by a growing swarm of fans. Teens and several other staff members were gathered around the school’s visitor, announcing praise of his work and asking questions.

    Grimacing, Castiel made his way towards the small mob.

    Dean Winchester, for all his internet fame, was a bit shyer in person. He was the sort of person who hated being called out at his own birthday parties. Even so he was handling the attention rather well. Grinning for selfies, answering the most repeated questions, even signing what looked suspiciously like homework assignments with mechanical pencils.

    Eventually Castiel made his way to the group’s edge, then began shuffling his way towards it center. Thankfully the students began to scatter, a few of his coworkers backing off with somewhat embarrassed expressions. When he finally had Dean’s attention he was roughly two feet from the other man, who’d just turned from taking a selfie with an overjoyed freshmen.

    “Hey, Cas. Here ya go.”

    “Thank you, Dean.”

    Heat warmed Castiel’s face as he took the offered lunch bag, Dean pecking his cheek as he handed it over. A gesture that got more than one exclamation and squeal of excitement. Today he had been running a little late and completely forgotten his lunch. Thankfully today was not one of the days where Dean was working at the shop, so it was easy enough to make the twenty-minute drive to Sioux Falls High School.

    One of Castiel’s bolder, more excitable students was already squealing the announcement, “Oh my gods! Mr. Novak is dating Dean!”

    That got a pair of raised eyebrows from Dean. He reached over, lacing his fingers through Castiel’s free left hand and holding both their hands up for all to see. More specifically, both their wedding bands for all to see. “Actually, Dean is married to Mr. Novak.”

    The resulting squeals made Castiel wince, the cumulation of so many high-pitched sounds acutely painful.

    Dean just chuckled, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go and turning to leave. “See you at home, Cas.” Louder he called, “Didn’t the lunch bell just go off?”

    Reminded that their forty-minute window was rapidly shrinking, a majority of the crowd scattered. A few more faithful fans stuck to the retreating man’s heels, asking about his car. Instantly a broad, proud smile spread across Dean’s face. Shaking his head morosely, Castiel turned to head towards the teacher’s lounge. He doubted that particular group would ever get their lunch, if they were to spend the whole period listening to all Dean had to say about Baby. He adored the man, and he respected Baby, but when it came to things his husband was really passionate about he turned into an enthusiastic five-year-old.

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    “No.”

    “Come on, Cas,” Dean coaxed, nudging his arm.

    Castiel rolled over, stuffing his pillow under his chin and folding his arms under it to peer in the direction of the newly erected filming area. Generally Dean did this in his home office, but sometimes he did it in other places. Today he’d set it up in the corner of their bedroom, on a desk where two chairs had been pulled over, the frame wide enough for two people.

    “Dean, it’s Sunday. I’ve been grading tests all weekend. I want to sleep.”

    “I know, but if we’re going to get all the footage and still have time to edit it right before tonight we need to get going.”

    Castiel groaned, burying his face in his pillow. In a muffled voice he asked, “What time is it?”

    “It’s only eight o’clock.” Judging from his enthusiasm Dean had already had his obligatory two cups of coffee. Damn him.

    “Why do they want this?”

    “I’ve never filmed with anyone except Sammy. This is exciting for them. Please?”

    Castiel didn’t bother asking why Dean was giving in. It was his habit, and it was the nature of his work. Part of why Dean was so good at his job was because he listened to his viewers. Much to Castiel’s dismay, word had gotten around that not only was Dean not single and ready to mingle, he was married. To another man, no less. He’d managed to lose followers then gain nearly double that amount overnight at the revelation of his non-heterosexuality. While he still refused to talk about it Dean was, in truth, a confirmed bisexual. He’d had more female partners over the years than male ones, but it just happened to be a man he’d fallen in love with. Castiel has had a feeling he’d be caving to the demands as to their relationship and the story behind it soon enough, but apparently the requests were already mounting. And Dean endeavored to never disappoint his viewers.

    “What’s this video going to be about again?” he asked wearily.

    Dean grinned, offering him a mug of steaming coffee. Grudgingly Castiel sat up to take it, sitting in a cross-legged position to nurse the ambrosia. “I’m gonna introduce you and we’re going to do some basic Q&A. I already put out a poll yesterday for questions.”

    Castiel’s eyes narrowed over the mug’s rim. “You did what? When?”

    “After breakfast. Come on, Cas, work with me here. I thought you wanted to be involved.”

    “Not in front of the camera,” Castiel protested. He didn’t add that his curiosity into his husband’s work had been primarily a wish to spend more time with him.

    “One of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you managed to teach there for six years and somehow no one knew you were married to me,” Dean informed him. “But whoever saw me there spread the word. They know your name, where you work, and what you do. They want to get to know you, Cas, that’s all. Right now all they’ve got is gossip from your students.”

    “My students don’t mind me. I’m fair with most of them.”

    Dean winced. “You’re a teacher, there’s always going to be one sour bastard or another ready to complain. Look, these are the questions. I took out the top ten most popular that I thought would be in your comfort zone.”

    Castiel took the paper, reading it over. There were a few he wasn’t so sure about, but for Dean he’d go through with it. Once he’d studied all the questions and contemplated suitable answers he handed back the list. “I’ll need to get a shower first.”

    His husband beamed, getting off the bed and leaving him to his coffee. Once he was caffeinated, fed, and refreshed Castiel spent a while poking around his closet before settling on what he hoped was an appropriate outfit. Dean then corrected him and had him put on something not designated as work clothes. Apparently he wanted to project a more relaxed vibe, since they were both at home and it _was_ the weekend. This apparently entailed gray sweatpants and an old S.C.U. t-shirt he would normally wear around the house.

    Perching nervously on the rolling desk chair as Dean turned on the camera and got the angle to his satisfaction, Castiel eyed the list again. “Um, is there anything I should avoid?”

    “Just let it flow. You’ll do fine, babe.”

    Castiel wasn’t so sure. A moment later the red light blinked on and Dean relocated to sit next to him, grinning at the lens. “What’s up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with a _very_ special episode. I have with me today my awesome husband Castiel. Yeah, you heard right, husband.” He held up his left hand, wiggling his fingers to display his wedding band while his free hand held up Castiel’s wrist to show his matching silver band. Then he dropped both their hands and turned to the other man and coaxed, “Say hi, Cas.”

    “Um, hello,” he intoned, inclining his head towards the camera.

    “So the cat’s out, I’m married. Have been for a while. You guys wanted to meet him, so here you go.” He circled a finger in a halo motion over Castiel’s head. A gesture that had his husband glancing quizzically upward at the circling digit. Dean then waved the piece of paper with ‘Q&A’ at its top. “And we’ve got a list of top ten questions you wanted answered that we’re gonna go through.”

    Castiel was accustomed to tiptoeing around whenever Dean was doing a video unless indicated he could bang around all he wanted. So he was a little taken aback when the paper was handed to him, Dean looking at him expectantly. While he slowly took it, he raised his eyebrows in inquiry.

    “Read the first question,” Dean coaxed, eyes twinkling.

    “Oh, um, okay. ‘Do you know why Dean hasn’t done a video on Baby yet?’” At least the first one was easy.

    “Yes, yes he does,” Dean stated, folding his arms and giving his husband a somewhat irritated look.

    Castiel met it with an exasperated expression of his own. “Really? We’ve been over this, Dean.”

    “They don’t know that,” the taller man argued, waving at the camera.

    Apparently annoyance was a decent cure for stage fright. Castiel faced the lens and stated, “He hasn’t posted a video on the Impala yet because he is incapable of making it concise.”

    “Baby deserves better than concise,” his husband protested.

    “He has recorded videos on Baby before,” Castiel continued, ignoring him and focusing on the camera. “But the shortest one was over an hour long. Since he insists on making it a single documentary and not breaking it up into parts nothing will be posted until he get can get it down to at least forty-five minutes.”

    “And that ties into question number three. ‘Do you have any say in the videos?’.”

    Castiel spared a glance for the paper his husband pointed to. “No, not really.”

    “Not true,” Dean argued. “I bounce ideas off you. You sit through every one of my videos to make sure I don’t make an ass of myself when I post something.” Glancing at the lens he added, “And when I need a camera man who do you think does all the filming?”

    Castiel shrugged uncomfortably. “I enjoy being a part of the process.”

    “Yeah, and you’re steadier with the camera than Sam was. They’ve noticed.”

    “They have?”

    “I’ll show you the comments later. Trust me, they’ve noticed.”

    Feeling his face warm, Castiel ducked his head and looked down at the paper. “Um, ‘Where are you from?’ I was born in Pontiac, Illinois.”

    “That’s the easiest one.”

    He was quite aware. “’Where did you two meet?’,” he read slowly.

    _“That_ is a funny story,” Dean began.

    Castiel dropped the paper onto the desk. “No it is not. _You_ think it’s funny.”

    “How many times do I have to tell you it was an accident,” Dean complained.

    “It doesn’t matter if it was an accident,” Castiel shot back. “I spent weeks working on that research paper, Dean. Weeks.”

    “It’s not my fault you didn’t backup.”

    “I did! Gabriel drowned my backup USB’s the day before you-“

    “Wait, wait, back up. Start from the beginning. They want the full story.”

    Reminded of their audience, Castiel cleared his throat and tried to act like the mature adult he was. “It was ten years ago, six months.”

    “You remember it that exact?”

    “I remember the due date for that paper you ruined.”

    Dean rolled his eyes. “Continue.”

    “I was in the library, I was on the top floor since it was less crowded, working on a research paper. I had this table that was in the far corner, specifically so I would be left alone. Then someone decides it would be a great idea to come over and ask me if I was going to leave anytime soon.”

    “In my defense, it was one in the morning, it was finals season, and it was my fifth shot of red-eye,” Dean promised, holding up his hand in mock oath.

    Castiel leaned back, folding his arms. “I told him no and to please leave me alone. He refused and asked me what my name was.”

    “You shouldn’t have told me, that was your mistake,” his husband challenged.

    “Agreed. But the fact is I did tell you. When you asked just what kind of a name was Castiel I explained that it was the name of an angel and my father was a theology professor.”

    Dean snorted. “Found out later him and all his brothers got named after angels. There’s you, Gabriel, Michael, and Lucifer.”

    “Who is much more tolerable than his namesake,” Castiel stated firmly. “But that’s not one of the questions. As I was saying, your highly caffeinated and sleep-deprived mind decided it would be a wonderful idea to ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven.”

    “Not my best line, I’ll admit, but you had an awesome comeback.”

    “Then why is it you seemed disturbed?”

    “Because no one’s ever had that reaction before.” Turning his full attention to the camera he explained, “Without missing a beat he looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘No, but I did sustain serious injury when I crawled out of hell.’ And if I was so disturbed, why didn’t I take longer to respond?”

    “That didn’t count.”

    “It totally counts! Comment down below, tell him ‘That’s why you’re so hot’ is the only real response to that.”

    “You could have done better.”

    “Okay so now you’re hating on my pickup lines?”

    “I didn’t marry you because of your smooth pickup lines.”

    Dean clutched at his chest, a strained and highly wounded look on his face.

    Choosing to ignore his husband’s antics, Castiel continued, “I informed him I had neither the time nor the interest and requested he leave me alone.”

    That earned a snort. “How about ‘Piss off Casanova, I’m busy.’ Sound familiar?”

    Feeling heat rise to his face Castiel stated, “You weren’t the only one who was sleep deprived.” He hesitated, then asked, “Are you going to edit that out?”

    “Nope.”

    Grimacing, Castiel returned to the story. “So he set his coffee cup on the table, right next to my computer. Bear in mind there wasn’t any food or drink allowed beyond the second floor of the library.”

    “Finals season, Cas. Everybody was drinking coffee or energy drinks or both.”

    “It was almost full and you set it next to my computer. I have no idea why you did, I hadn’t given any indication I wanted you to hang around. He keeps talking to me, won’t leave me alone. Then he askes me what I’m working on and reaches for my computer, and he knocks over the coffee. It spilled all over the keyboard, went into every nook and cranny.”

    “In like three seconds the whole thing was fried,” Dean chuckled.

    “Yes, my laptop was fried. All my work was gone. Toast. Because of you. I got angry and told you to leave me alone. Forcefully.”

    “And I felt kinda bad, so I did.”

    “Unfortunately that wasn’t the last time I’d see him there.”

    “What do you mean unfortunately?” Dean sounded a little hurt at that.

    “At the time I thought it was unfortunate. Now I don’t,” Castiel assured him, squeezing his arm. “It was the next semester, in January, we had this group assignment. I’d booked one of the study rooms in advance so we could meet before we had any other assignments to deal with. Those rooms were very illusive, even early in the semester. But when we get there he shows up with another group from a different class.”

    “He still blames me for that too. Like it’s my fault they double booked.”

    Castiel glared at him. “No, they didn’t double book. I booked that space eight days in advance. The day before that time slot you waltzed in and flirted with the student working the desk to get that time. She simply didn’t inform me that we no longer had that slot. No one did.”

    “You didn’t have to get that upset about it.”

    “The only reason I got an extension on the term paper was because my professor was sympathetic when I showed her my drowned laptop. At the time I was not kindly disposed to you. So yes I got a little…upset.”

    Dean started laughing. “We started arguing. It got heated, it got loud. They called security to escort us out. We got banned from the university library. You think they’ve got our mugshots somewhere in there still?”

    “I hope not,” Castiel groaned, rubbing his temples. “But they said if we visited one of the counselors there wouldn’t be any marks on our academic records.”

    “So he drags my ass to these sessions for three weeks.”

    “Because one of us had a clean record to maintain.”

    “It worked out, though,” Dean protested. “By the end of it you didn’t hate me anymore. You agreed to a date.”

    “I agreed to get coffee with you in hopes you’d grow tired of your pursuits.”

    “Admit it. I was growing on you.”

    “You were…tolerable.”

    “If you say so, babe.”

    Rolling his eyes and hoping he wasn’t blushing as deep as he thought he was, Castiel looked down at the list again. “’Do you have any siblings?’. I think you already answered that.”

    “Yeah, but not with any real detail.”

    “I have three brothers, what more detail do they need?”

    “How about they’re all older? Even Gabriel.”

    “Gabriel’s only older by twelve minutes.”

    “See? He’s got a twin.”

    “Fraternal twin. We’re nothing alike, we don’t even look alike.”

    “They’re not, trust me,” Dean agreed solemnly.

    “Uh, ‘How long have you been married?’. Eight years. It will be nine in September.”

    “I love how you didn’t have to think about that.”

    Castiel blinked at him owlishly. “Why would I?”

    “No reason, uh, next question?”

    “’What are your hobbies?’. Um, I enjoy bees.”

    “Enjoy? Come on, Cas, be honest.”

    “I am,” Castiel protested. “I really enjoy bees. I have three bee boxes in our backyard.”

    “Which the neighbors hate.”

    “I don’t see why. They’re pollinating their beloved flowerbeds and none of them are allergic.”

    “Some people just don’t like bees. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who likes ‘em.”

    Choosing to ignore this argument, as usual, Castiel turned back to the original question. “I also enjoy reading and hiking.”

    “Those are your normal hobbies. I still can’t believe I let you talk me into getting those damn bee boxes. I have to wear one of those suits every time I mow the lawn.”

    “I smoke them so you don’t have to,” Castiel protested. “You’re the one who still chooses to wear the suit.”

    “What if some of ‘em were out on a pollen run and missed the smoke?”

    “You do realize when I first asked you could have said no. I could have found an alternative.”

    “No I couldn’t. You’ve wanted to keep bees since you were a little kid. When you brought it up you have a freaking PowerPoint prepared. And we do sell the honey.”

    “We sell what you don’t eat. Considering how much you complain you love their honey.”

    “Hey, that honey is awesome.”

    Castiel pointedly studied the list. “’Who is your best friend?’.” Glancing briefly up at the camera he stated, “I married him.”

    “Really?”

    “Yes.” He didn’t think much about it, but when he glanced up at Dean his husband was smiling and blushing. “Something wrong?”

    “Nope, nothing. Next question?”

    “’Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket?’ No, I have not.”

    “You don’t gatta sound all superior about it.”

    “One of us should have a good driving record, Dean. Clearly that will not be you.” Making eye contact with the camera he stated, “Not all of the ticket stories are funny so they don’t get told.”

    “Really?”

    “There is a reason your car insurance is so much more expensive than mine.” And it wasn’t simply because his car was newer and had all the modern safety features, like seatbelts and airbags.

    “Last question?”

    “Just because you change the subject doesn’t change the facts.”

    “I know. Last question?”

    “’What was your first impression of Dean?’ Are you sure you want me to answer this?”

    “Yeah, sure. If you want I’ll tell ‘em my first impression of you.”

    Castiel worried his lip, then admitted slowly, “My first impression of you was that you were exactly the sort of person I found intolerable. You were cocky, arrogant, brash…the fact that you didn’t exactly make a glowing first or second impression didn’t help. But as you might have noticed, you’ve grown on me.”

    Dean didn’t seem to take offense, chuckling quietly. “Don’t get me wrong, you were cute and all, but you were also kinda pious, kinda self-righteous.”

    “If you thought I was pious, why did you ask me out?”

    “Like I said, you were cute. And I’d never met someone besides Sam who argued with me like that.”

    “You liked that I argued. Really? How is this just now coming up?”

    “No one’s ever asked before,” Dean pointed out with a shrug.

    “Why did you make this one of the questions if your first impression of me was questionable?”

    “I was curious. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Grinning, Dean turned back to the camera. “Alright, that’s all ten questions. If you want to see more just post questions you’d like answered down below- “

    “More?” Castiel protested, interrupting him. “I agreed to one video, Dean, not a series.”

    “Come on, Cas, a series could be fun.”

    “No, your cooking series is fun,” Castiel corrected. “And I agreed to help you with that voluntarily.”

    “Let them be the judge of that,” his husband stated, motioning to the camera. “And you’re totally at liberty to say no.”

    “Absolutely not.”

    “Why?”

    “Because I know what the answer’s going to be!”

    “No, you don’t.”

    “Yes, I do. I’ve been watching you do this for long enough to know what the outcome will be.” He didn’t add that he disliked the idea of letting Dean’s work suffer simply because he decided not to comply to his viewer’s wishes.

    “So, prove me wrong.”

    Castiel scowled at him. “At least have the decency to mention something like this to me before you put it on the internet next time.”

    “So there’s gonna be a next time!” Beaming broadly, Dean gave the camera a thumbs-up. “If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. Especially if you want to see more of my awesome hubby. Stay safe, Gotham!”

    As soon as the camera was off Castiel demanded, “Why didn’t you mention the prospect of more before we started the video?”

    Dean shrugged, giving him an innocent look. “It didn’t occur to me before we started. But it was going really good so I figured, what the hell? I couldn’t exactly ask you on camera.”

    “Then ask me and edit it out.”

    “You lose a lot of flow if things are all clipped together. Sometimes you can’t help it, but I try to keep everything going. You know that.”

    “I’m aware. But- “

    “Cas, did you have fun?”

    For a moment Castiel stared at him owlishly. “I…suppose it wasn’t an _unpleasant_ experience.”

    A smile began to crawl up Dean’s face as he took down the camera. “Admit it, you had fun. Watch over it with me after I’m done editing, alright?”

    “Don’t I usually do that?”

    “Yeah, but I think it’ll be different this time.”

    “How?”

    “You’ll see.”

    Shaking his head, Castiel stood and left his husband to his editing. Surely it wouldn’t be that popular, right?


	2. VOL 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mention of a series was just if this went over well, and even then it was a maybe. This was truly meant to be a one-shot. I had no idea it would be so popular. But due to numerous requests and remarkable excitement, I’ve decided to keep it running.  
> I am open to question requests! I will only use them if I feel I can do them justice but I love to hear from my readers!  
> Enjoy!

    Castiel spared a glance for the clock. He had a minute, maybe less before the bell went off and his class fled. “Anymore questions?”

    Eight hands went up. He sighed, bracing his palms on his desk. This was his last class of the day, as soon as sixth period ended they could all go home. “Questions about the test you will be having on Monday and not on anything else.”

    All eight hands went down. As had happened when he’d made that same clarification every other period. You would think they’d take it more seriously, considering it was the last test before school ended for the year. Thankfully the bell went off before his irritation could show, and he sank down into his desk chair with a sigh. He began packing up his things for the weekend, having no reason to stick around. Not today, anyway.

    “Mr. Novak?”

    He paused, looking up as he put completed extra credit papers into a shoulder bag. “Yes, Krissy?” She was in his second period, and not among the people who generally stopped by when class wasn’t in session.

    “Can I make a request?”

    A frown knit his brow. “What sort of request?”

   It was then he noticed a group of about half a dozen girls and at least one teacher outside his door, all peering in with looks of anticipation. His heart sank, even as he turned his attention back to Krissy. She was a bright girl, her problem was simply that she didn’t apply herself as often as she could. But it seemed she’d finally found something she was willing to put her full effort into.

    “A question that we all wanna know. Or it could be a story video, either way.”

    Castiel raised his eyebrows, waiting.

    “If you two fought so much when you first met, why’d you get married like a year later?”

    “A year and nine months,” one of their spectators hissed.

    Castiel shot them an irritated look. “This should not be your greatest concern at this time. You have a final, remember?”

    “Yeah, but this is important too.”

    “I beg to differ.” Castiel refocused on stowing his things, wiping off the white board and shutting down his computer. “I have said this before and I will say it again, if you have requests for Dean you may send them in the usual fashion. I am here to teach you, not to be a direct conduit to Impala67.”

    “Come on, please?” Krissy urged. “It’s one of the top running questions in the polls but he hasn’t confirmed whether or not it’ll be in the next video.”

    Castiel shrugged into his trench coat, glancing around to make sure he’d taken care of everything that couldn’t be left until Monday. “You realize it might be a while before a video is even completed?”

    “What? Why not?”

    “We’re the ones studying for a dozen tests,” one of the hovering students complained.

    “It’s five at best, Alex,” Castiel informed her.

    “Believe it or not we are equally busy. I have extra credit to grade and calculate in. I have three different tests to make. Not to mention the regular human things I have to keep up with.” He made sure his wallet, phone, and keys were in his pockets. “If you need academic aid I’m more than happy to stay as long as you need. But if that’s all I have errands to run.”

    Krissy folded her arms, looking very put out, but left his classroom nonetheless. The others left, including a few sheepish coworkers. Castiel shouldered his bag, locking the room on his way out. If anyone else needed anything they could email him, and he’d answer. But until then, he really did have things to do.

    As he made his way out to his car Castiel was stopped by several people, but he didn’t mind much. Four of the five inquiries were work or test-subject related. Even so he heaved a sigh when he was behind the wheel, letting his head tip back once he’d turned on the AC full blast. It was early June, and even though they weren’t quite to summer break yet his car was steamy by the time he got to it in the afternoons.

    Attaching a Bluetooth to one ear, Castiel dialed Dean’s cell and put his car into reverse. He was pulling out into the flow of departing traffic when Dean picked up. “Hey, what’s up?”

    “I’m leaving the school. Is there anything you need at the grocery store while I’m out?”

    “Uh, hang on. You going by there already?”

    “Yes, we’re out of peanut butter.” Normally Dean did the grocery shopping, simply because he also did the cooking. If Castiel was dispatched alone then he would inevitably get the wrong amount, or the wrong brand, or forget things. So he was generally happy to leave it to his husband.

    “Right, right. Looks like we’re good, but if you could get some pie while you’re there that’d be awesome.”

    Castiel rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

    “Where else are you going, anyhow? You mentioned a bunch of errands.”

    “I need to go by the hardware store, we need more twine and Mason jars. I need to pick up a birthday card you will also need to sign so we can send it off tomorrow.”

    “Whose birthday?”

    “Jo’s, remember? Your sister? The one who will be turning twenty-five next week?”

    “I knew that. Totally remembered. Uh, can you pick her up a gift card too?”

    “I already was,” Castiel sighed. “Amazon?”

    “Yeah. And Starbucks. Still can’t believe she turned into one of those fancy caffeine addicts.”

    “She’s in nursing school, Dean. Be happy caffeine and expensive coffee is all she’s getting addicted to.”

    “If you say so,” his husband grumbled.

    “Anything else?”

    “No, don’t think so. You hitting anyplace else?”

    “Car wash.”

    “I can wash your car,” Dean protested.

    “I know, but this is easier. And you don’t wax my tires.”

    “I could.”

    “The type of video is still under negotiation but you will have work to do this weekend. When will you have time to do that?”

    “Monday.”

    “I have to drive to work on Monday.”

    “Take Baby.”

    Castiel raised his eyebrows. While he’d driven Baby before, it was a rarely-seen event. He had no serious attachment to driving in general, so he didn’t much care that Dean was so possessive over his beloved Impala. As far as he knew he and Sam were the only people Dean would give the keys up to with only token reluctance.

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, sure.”

    “You would let me drive the Impala to school and back? On roads heavily populated by teenage drivers?”

    There was a brief hesitation before he got a slightly less enthusiastic, “Absolutely.”

    Castiel frowned slightly. He could tell something was off, but now wasn’t the time to pursue it. He was on the road during rush hour, and he’d found it was best to argue with people face-to-face. You picked up on more that way.

    “Fine. I’ll skip the car wash. See you at home?”

    “Sure thing, babe. Drive safe.”

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    Castiel trudged in through the front door, tossing his keys into the nearby bowl and absently twisting the deadbolt. He let his shoulder bag slide off one arm onto the floor by the wall, making his way to the kitchen. He got halfway there before Dean slid out, intercepting him with a broad grin.

    “Hey, Cas. How was your day?”

    “Long.”

    “Remember the pie?” he asked, taking some of the bags from Castiel’s hands.

    “Yes, I remembered the pie. They only had blueberry…..”

    Castiel trailed off as he reached the kitchen, stopping in the doorway. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t what he was seeing. He’d noticed the smell of cooking food, sure, but he hadn’t thought about just what it was he was smelling.

    Their kitchen table was set for two, there was even a small candle burning in the table’s center. A bottle of wine had been opened, Castiel’s favorite kind, a glass of it sitting by one place, a beer by the other. Two covered dishes rested on the stove eyes, a basket of sliced bread covered in cheeses, garlic, and herbs rested on the table.

    “You always have a lot to deal with near the end of the year. Figured you could use a treat,” Dean was saying, setting bags on the counter.

    Castiel carefully lowered the bag of supplies from the hardware store onto the floor against one wall, out of the way. “You didn’t have to. Haven’t they been busy at the shop?”

    “Nah, it hasn’t been that bad,” Dean waved it off.

    He had set down the small bag of various cards when he turned in time to see Dean take the cover off the first dish. Castiel froze, trench coat off one shoulder. “You made tortellini?”

    Dean stepped behind him, taking the trench coat off and tossing it over a bar stool. “Ricotta and Italian sausage tortellini in mushroom sauce.”

    Generally Castiel’s preferences were simple. He liked PB&J’s and burgers and macaroni-and-cheese. That’s not to say he didn’t like Dean’s concoctions in the kitchen, but his tastes were hardly complex. There were very few exceptions to this. Among them were the handmade pasta Dean had experimented with five years ago. Castiel absolutely loved it, especially in the mushroom sauce, but it took half an age to make and it was hardly the cheapest recipe in Dean’s repertoire, so it didn’t get made often.

    Pointing to the second dish Dean added, “And peach cobbler for desert. There’s vanilla ice-cream in the freezer.”

    Castiel stared at the food for a long minute, then slowly looked up at his husband. “But it’s not my birthday. Or our anniversary. Did I miss something?”

    Dean just smiled, scooping up tortellini onto two plates. “Nah, just figured you could use a treat.”

    It wasn’t until he was drying his hands after scrubbing them in the sink that it clicked for Castiel. Even then he wasn’t mad. How could he be?

    He waited until halfway through their delicious meal in a romantic atmosphere to ask, “So what questions are they requesting?”

    Dean’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “Huh?”

    “The questions for the next video. I’m afraid we’ll have to explain why our wedding so closely followed our meeting. I was ambushed after class today. Apparently it’s a very highly desired question by a significant portion of your female audience.”

    Fork still hovering between plate and mouth, Dean asked innocently, “What brought that on? And what do you mean they ambushed you?”

    After relaying the incident led by Krissy, Castiel took a sip of his wine and stated, “I am very grateful you made this meal, and I’m enjoying the evening you took the time to arrange. But the last time you prepared this outside of a designated special occasion was after my Cadillac died.”

    “Hey, you’re perfectly happy with your new wheels. What’d I tell you?”

    Castiel inclined his head. “Yes, I’m aware. But that’s not the point. It’s been two weeks, and I’m surprised you haven’t brought it up sooner. Surprised and…impressed, I suppose.”

    “Uh, thanks?”

    Lips twitching in amusement, popping some cheese-laden bread into his mouth, Castiel explained, “I do keep an eye on your feeds. The response was far more enthusiastic than I anticipated, and I have to clarify when I ask if there are any questions that they need to be related to the current subject I’m teaching.”

    Dean finally took his bite, a cocky grin gracing his face. “Seriously?”

    “Yes. It can be quite irritating in the moment but very amusing in hindsight.”

    Chuckling, Dean took a swing of his beer. “Awesome.”

    Castiel hummed, forking the last tortellini on his plate into his mouth. “I will admit it’s out of my comfort zone, but all things considered I’d be willing to pursue a series.”

    “That’s not why I did this but that’s awesome.”

    “Really? Seven years and there has never been a special meal when the school year is ending. Though if you were to make tortellini every time you want me to participate on the screen side of a video I wouldn’t complain.”

    Dean coughed on his beer. “Think you’d settle for steaks or something?”

    Castiel pretended to think about it. “I suppose. If you make them with garlic mashed potatoes.”

    “Done. ‘Cause you are freaken’ popular.”

    “Did that first video _really_ get a quarter of a million hits within twenty-four hours?”

    “Nope. More like half a million. Two-hundred thousand and sixty hits,” Dean corrected. “Between the followers, subscribers, shares, re-tweets, and various media platforms, yeah.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah, Cas, they loved you. Didn’t you see the jump in subscribers?”

    “No,” Castiel admitted, toying with his wine glass.

    “I knew it’d be good but I didn’t think it’d explode like this,” Dean admitted. “And it’s been two weeks, so….you up for another one tomorrow morning?”

    “I take it you’re prepared a list of questions?”

    “Yeah, they’re in my office.”

    “You recall the one my students have been particularly eager to have answered?”

    Dean smiled wryly. “It’s the last one on the list. I capped it at ten, figured that’d be a good number to stick to for now.”

    Castiel nodded his agreement, using some of the bread to mop up what little mushroom sauce remained. “Could we do it in the morning? That way you’d have time to edit and I can start putting honey into jars.”

    “My morning or your morning?”

    “My morning.”

    Dean grimaced, but didn’t argue. Instead he moved on to, “How’d you feel about doing a video the next time we go on a hike?”

    Castiel considered that, then decided, “Yakitori.”

    “Done.”

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    “What’s up world? Your friendly neighborhood Batman is back with volume two of my awesome new series. You guys loved him so much he agreed to make a second appearance. Ain’t that right?”

    Castiel gave his husband a blank look. “I suppose.”

    Dean’s arms flopped into his lap as he gave his husband an exasperated look. “Really?”

    “What?”

    “You wanna show some enthusiasm?”

    “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked innocently, sipping his coffee. Per Dean’s suggested he was wearing basketball shorts this time, paired with a t-shirt inscribed with ‘ _Bazinga!_ ’. He’d tried to smooth out his ruffled hair after he’d showered, but Dean had simply ruffled it up again. To top off the image that so starkly contrasted the persona he held up at work, the mug he was currently using was decorated after the marauder’s map and proclaimed ‘ _I solemnly swear I am up to no good._ ’ Supposedly showing his personality a little more would further endear him to Dean’s viewers.

    “Yeah, right. Okay, so we’ve got another ten questions we’re gonna go through. These were taken from the most popular suggestions, including one I’m told Cas here was nagged about personally. Yeah, I know, there’s a lot more, but let’s take it in stride. Also before I forget, tune in tomorrow morning for my first shot at a Live Stream. Me and Cas finally haggled out an arrangement for a video with Baby.”

    Castiel smiled fondly, sipping his coffee and patting Dean’s shoulder. His husband was beaming broadly, practically giddy. Turning back to the camera he stated solemnly, “Yes, he is very excited.” Excited enough to bribe him with his favorite meal followed by some truly thorough lovemaking.

    “Aren’t you?”

    “I’m excited that it will no longer be a reoccurring issue.”

    Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation, passing him the notebook sheet of written questions. “First one, Cas.”

    “’Who drives and who gives directions?’,” Castiel read. Frowning at the camera, he stated, “Obviously Dean drives most of the time, unless he’s too tired or otherwise incapacitated. I provide directions if necessary.”

    “Every single time we’re going to someplace new you get obsessed with that GPS app,” Dean added. “You micromanage every little detail.”

    “To ensure we don’t get lost. I do the same when I’m driving on my own.”

    “Yeah, but you don’t have my awesome sense of direction.”

    “If your sense of direction is truly ‘awesome’, then why is it the last time I allowed you to navigate we spent five hours trying to get out of the Sioux Falls Halloween corn maze?”

    “That doesn’t count,” Dean protested.

    “The longest I’ve taken to get us out is out is two hours.”

    Making a face, Dean turned to the camera. “Every year they turn one of the corn fields into a maze for Halloween. It’s three square miles of dense, ten-foot-tall corn stalks. They give you red flashlights to wave around so they can come get you when you give up. At least I got us out.”

    “After five hours. Five very long hours.”

    “Alright, next question! ‘Who’s the neat freak?’,” Dean read loudly.

    “You, I think.”

    “Me?”

    “Yes. You get very upset if clothes don’t make it all the way into the laundry hamper, you insist on cleaning the house once a week, if I leave dishes around the sink without rinsing them first you rant about-“

    “Okay, okay, they get the point. So what, I like things clean?”

    “Is it really necessary to put on clean sheets every day?”

    “Yes. And I’m the one washing them so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

    “It’s not so much a complaint as it is an observation of something that can be occasionally irritating. Yet it seems to require too much effort for your bottle caps to make it all the way into the trashcan.”

    “Uh-huh. Next one?”

    “’Who remembers important dates/events?’,” Castiel read.

    “That’d be you.”

    “I never really thought about it,” Castiel admitted.

    “Dude, you remember the exact date of when we met, when we got married, you remember birthdays, anniversaries, random holidays. You’d forget to tie your shoes if you didn’t trip over the laces, but you can tell me when Pi Day is. And yes there is such a day.”

    “Of course, March fourteenth,” Castiel recalled. “Considering it was meant to celebrate the number you insist on celebrating it with the desert.”

    “I rest my case. Next?”

    “’Who hogs the blanket/bed?’. You do.”

    “Hold on, I don’t hog the blankets. You’re the one who likes to wrap yourself up like a burrito.”

    Castiel huffed, folding his arms. “Because you hog the bed. By the time you’re all sprawled out the only room left is just enough for a burrito. I like being warm.”

    “So I hog the bed and you hog the blankets?”

    “Agreed.”

    “Fine. ‘Who sings with the radio/in the shower?’.”

    “You do.”

    A blush climbed Dean’s face. “I do not.”

    “You sing along to your music when you’re in a good mood,” Castiel insisted. “It’s not a bad thing. Plenty of people do it. It’s endearing.”

    Dean’s eyes narrowed. “You said I sounded like a mule in labor.”

    “When you’re not partially drowned out by whatever song you’re singing along with,” Castiel admitted. “I still love you, even if your rendition of _Juke Box Hero_ is reminiscent of a feline’s death wail.”

    Face reddening, Dean thrust the list at him, grumbling, “Read the next question already.”

    “’Who texts with perfect grammar and who uses shorthand and numbers for letters?’.”

    “I wouldn’t say perfect grammar,” Dean admitted. “But you like to use every shorthand in the book.”

    “What’s wrong with that? It’s more efficient and you still know what I mean.”

    “Efficient? This from the guy who takes his sweet time deciding which emojis to use.”

    “I like emojis,” Castiel protested. “They’re fun and they help drive the point home. So do gifs.”

    “But do you really need to use ‘em with _every_ text?”

    “If at all possible. It’s one of the perks of texting.”

    “If you say so. ‘Who makes the bad puns?’. Also you.”

    “I do not,” Castiel protested indignantly.

    “Yeah you do. At every freaken’ opportunity. Plus you own every single “Let’s taco ‘bout it” and “Oh Whale” t-shirt ever made.”

    “They’re humorous plays on words,” he defended with a huff. “What’s not to like?”

    “Let’s just say I tolerate them like you tolerate my crappy singing.”

    Castiel was still wondering if he was okay with this when Dean moved on to the next question. “’Who mows the lawn?’. That’s me, but he does everything else.”

    “Not exactly. You also use the weed eater and edger and the blower.”

    “Yeah, but you guys haven’t seen our yard,” Dean informed the camera. “He’s got these gardenia bushes growing in front of our house, which smell awesome by the way. All trimmed and manicured-looking. Our backyard is this freaken’ bee’s paradise. How many types of flower do you have back there again?”

    “It depends on the season but- “

    “Total.”

    After a moment’s consideration Castiel decided, “eight, but they don’t bloom all at once. I’m thinking about adding lilacs.”

    “Eight types of flower and counting, plus the gardenia bushes,” Dean concluded. “They all have these designated beds, choreographed around the whole yard. And if I get one when I’m mowing the lawn, there’s hell to pay.”

    Castiel gave him a stricken look. “Of course there’s hell to pay! I work very hard to keep them all healthy and thriving. They don’t deserve to die simply because you’re careless.”

    “Damn it, Cas, it only happened once. It was an honest mistake.”

    He sat down his coffee mug so he could fold his arms. “I’d just gotten that particular petunia to perk up. She was going to live and you murdered her.”

    Dean groaned. “It was a flower, Cas. A single st-

    “If you say ‘stupid flower’ one more time so help me-

    “That was three years ago! You can’t still be pissed.”

    Rather than answer Castiel simply glared at his husband, who gave the camera an exasperated look. “One flower, and I’m in the doghouse for a week. And here I was trying to detail how good a job you do on a nirvana for those damn bees.”

    “Thank you. I would be appreciative if you would display your admiration by not killing anymore of them.”

    Rolling his eyes, Dean turned his attention to the list. “’Where did you go on your honeymoon?’”

    Castiel frowned slightly, head tilting. “Which one?”

    “I figured they were talking about the first one, but I was gonna mention the second one.” When Castiel nodded in agreement, Dean gave the lens his full attention. “See, when we got married we were both still in school. We were both working on our masters, we were sharing this little one-bedroom apartment, we were eating Ramen three nights a week. Getting cheap wedding bands was a strain on the budget, never mind a honeymoon.”

    “The only reason we were able to afford what we did was because neither of us wanted a wedding,” Castiel added. “We simply went to the courthouse and were witnessed by family members and a few close friends.”

    A distant look crossed Dean’s face. “Yeah. A dozen people, tops. Not counting the judge. Anyway, we could only afford to take a week off work, and we couldn’t go very far, so we just drove for a few hundred miles until we got to this tiny town in Colorado. I’m talking one stoplight, a population of a few thousand people. But it had this one hotel with a great view. We booked a room for a week and spent the whole time there. Either locked in or checking out the scenery.”

    “Which is beautiful, if you haven’t seen it,” Castiel chipped in.

    “Very,” Dean agreed. “We had a great time and all, but a few years ago when we could afford it we decided we wanted to splurge on a second honeymoon.”

    “We disagreed on the term ‘splurge’, since mine generally involved us flying somewhere,” Castiel put in. “And I’m sure by now you’re all aware of how Dean feels about planes.”

    “I agreed to go anywhere and do anything so long as I didn’t have to get on one of those flying death traps,” Dean reminded him. “And we didn’t.”

    “If any of my past students are watching this, this is why I took two months off of work three years ago.”

    “We took this five-day road trip down to Port Canaveral, went on a seven-day Caribbean cruise, then spent seven days in Disney World. Let me tell you, even when you’re an adult that’s still the happiest place on earth.”

    Castiel inclined his head. “It is. Then we took the long way home, circled up the east coast, spend a few nights in New York City, then made our way back to South Dakota. But by the time we hot home we were exhausted. Everything was wonderful, the best second honeymoon a person could ask for but….”

    “We’d been doing and doing for over a month at that point. We were beat,” Dean admitted. “So we spent the last two weeks of our time off putting our feet up and leaving the house as little as possible.”

    “I didn’t realize so many food places in town delivered until then,” Castiel mused.

    “Neither did I,” Dean admitted sheepishly. “That was back before Netflix had instant, so we only left a few times to hit up Blockbuster or Red Box. We made a supply run right after we got home so we wouldn’t run out of milk or toilet paper, then had two of the laziest weeks we could manage. We need to do that again at some point. It’s very therapeutic. And bonding.”

    “Agreed,” Castiel stated, smiling fondly.

    Dean returned the smile, then ducked his head and cleared his throat. “Last question. ‘Why did you get married so soon after you met if you fought at first sight?’.”

    Castiel tilted his head, frowning slightly. “I know they want to know, but I fail to understand their enthusiasm.”

    “Yeah, well, it’s the nature of the beast. How much did we talk about last time?”

    “I believe it was mentioned you convinced me to accompany you to a coffee date after our last therapy session,” Castiel recalled.

    “That’s right. And it didn’t go too bad.”

    “No,” Castiel admitted. “If memory serves we had a surprisingly stimulating conversation.”

    “So stimulating it was _your_ idea to exchange numbers,” Dean reminded him, grinning.

    “It seemed prudent. You were growing on me and I didn’t know when we would both be able to get away enough for another meeting.”

    “Texting was just starting to get big, and we ended up doing a lot of that,” Dean admitted. “We’d send a few back and forth every day, sometimes we’d meet up if we were eating at the dinning halls at the same time.”

    “Yes, but when at all possible Friday’s were designated date days. Saturday, if something came up.”

    “It was never anything big. Usually we’d see a movie or go mini-golfing or something and grab dinner.”

    “I like those dates,” Castiel recalled. “They were simple. Things were simpler. I got to spend time with you, we each had each other’s undivided attention.”

    “We still argued,” Dean remembered, grinning. “A few times we got this close to getting asked to leave the golf course because we’d get into a shouting match over how accurately the points were being kept.”

    Smiling fondly Castiel added, “Somehow there were fewer complaints from the bowling alley.”

    “Probably because we could buy beer there.”

    “Probably. Gas prices weren’t much better then but we did drive a lot. Usually in Baby, even though my car got better millage.”

    “A minor fault in an otherwise perfectly awesome car,” Dean defended.

    Ignoring this, Castiel went on, “I wouldn’t call it going steady, per say, but we weren’t seeing anybody else those first few months. Then when I got back from spring break you started avoiding me.”

    Dean grimaced at the reminder, shifting uncomfortably. “Yeah. See, my old man never really…he didn’t know about me liking other guys. I wanted to keep it that way. While I was home that year he went on this tangent, and I let it get to me. Cas had to track me down and knock some sense into me.”

    “Literally. I may or may not have hit him over the head with a two-foot-thick hardback textbook.”

    Wincing, Dean rubbed the side of his skull. “I kinda deserved it. He came over after class one day, we talked, I said some things I regretted almost immediately, and he threw a big-ass book at my head.”

    “I was, um, out of line.”

    “So was I. You didn’t deserve any of what I said to you. I didn’t…whether dad was right or wrong, I liked having you in my life. I cared about you. Enough that, at the time, I figured that as long as he never found out things would be fine.”

    “You were perceptive enough to inform me as to why you’d made your sudden change in behavior,” Castiel elaborated, glancing at the camera. “Afterward I tried to be more patient.”

    Dean made a face. “It’s ass-backwards, though. I mean come on, you’re the one with this super-strict Catholic family. Stereotypically speaking your family should have been the one with a problem with your being gay.”

    To that Castiel could only shrug. “My brothers took more issue with it than my parents. Admittedly there are several family members who still refuse to speak to me, but then I never liked them much anyway. My mother was always supportive, but I don’t think she was truly enthusiastic until she met my choice of life-partner. My father is highly…logical. I think he took more issue with the fact I chose a career path away from theology or the pulpit than he did with my sexuality.”

    “It probably helped that Gabriel came out about the same time,” Dean reasoned. “One twin swung the wrong way and the other swung both ways.”

    “I suppose. But aside from your father everyone else seemed supportive of you,” Castiel reminded him.

    A weary smile graced Dean’s face. “Yeah, they are. And they love you.”

    Castiel inclined his head, feeling his face heat. “Are we getting off track?”

    Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah. Sorry. Uh, so we kept ‘dating’, only now I called it dating. When school let out for the summer I asked him to take a road trip with me, thought it’d be a good bonding experience. The plan was we’d go see Sammy in Palo Alto, since he was taking some summer classes after freshman year. Figured we’d hit a few highlights along the way, maybe spend a few days in Vegas.”

    “It was nice to get away,” Castiel mused. “Though I would have appreciated it if you had mentioned we would be taking all the backroads rather than the interstate the whole way.”

    “Sometimes it’s as much about the journey as it is the destination,” Dean reminded him. “Admit it, you had fun.”

    “My complaint wasn’t about the lack of fun, Dean. It was about the fact I didn’t pack accordingly.”

    “But you enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

    “Yes. If memory serves it was the first time you called me your boyfriend without prompting,” Castiel recalled, smiling. “It was sweet. Though it would have been sweeter if I hadn’t found out until after the fact you drove halfway across the country primarily so you wouldn’t have to fly.”

    “This from the guy who waited until we were a thing for five months before telling me the reason you could never go out on Sunday night was because you went to mass.”

    “Fair enough,” Castiel conceded.

    “So we were halfway through Utah, and we started arguing. Again. Only this time it was big.”

    “I had misread the map, we were nowhere near where we needed to be. I blamed you for insisting on taking the questionably marked roads and not taking the interstate. You blamed me for being a poor navigator. We were hot, we were hungry since there hadn’t been a place to buy food for the better part of a hundred miles, and we were tired. So I got out, I grabbed the smallest bag I’d brought, and I told him I would be hitchhiking home.”

    “And at the time I was pissed enough to let him,” Dean admitted, shamefaced. “I got maybe three miles before I turned around again, doubled back to look for you. We’d been in this stretch of desert, I’d cooled down enough to realize he’d get heatstroke before he got picked up. But I went back four miles and couldn’t find him. I tried calling him, he didn’t pick up. There was nothing on that stretch, just sand and dirt and some tumbleweeds. I…kinda freaked.”

    Castiel set aside his cold coffee, smiling patiently at his husband. “He went to the local cops, of which there weren’t many by the way, and talked them into something of a manhunt. They then spent the next six hours frantically scouring the countryside for me, or what might be left of me. Later on they brought in several state troopers.”

    “Yeah. Meanwhile you were having the time of your freaken’ life.”

    “I would hardly call it that,” Castiel snorted. Focusing on the lens again he explained, “I’d been walking for maybe ten minutes when this bus came along. It was shuttling a Baptist choir group home from some sort of gospel music festival in California. The driver was nice enough to invite me on board before I overheated. They were heading to Nebraska and offered to take me that far. I was in the back next to their very maternal choir leader, and she was very concerned as to why I seemed to be walking out of the desert by myself. Eventually I told her. At first it was just enough to for her to get the idea, but then she informed me that I would not be allowed off the bus until I explained just what was weighing on me. It was a little easier to do once she told me that the very nice driver was her wife.”

    “Leave it to you to get picked up by the only lesbian church leaders in God knows how many miles,” Dean mused, shaking his head.

    “They were very kind, as well as helpful,” Castiel reminded him. “They still send us Christmas cards. Missouri had dragged the entirety of our story out of me just before we stopped for dinner. Then she asked me a few questions, and I didn’t realize it until later but she was getting me to work things out on my own.” After a moment’s hesitation Castiel explained slowly, “We argued a lot. We still do, but not as much or as bad as we did initially.”

    “A relationship ain’t healthy if you don’t argue at all,” Dean informed the camera firmly.

    “Right. Missouri mentioned that. She also got me to realize why we were in a relationship in the first place. How it was able to get so far even though we fought so much. Pamela, her wife, seemed to think our relationship would be more successful if we got our heads out of our asses.”

    “Yeah. So while I’m tearing up the countryside trying to find this son of a bitch, he’s sitting pretty in an airconditioned bus and eating burgers.”

    “I wouldn’t call it sitting pretty. It was relationship counseling,” Castiel argued. “Which we both benefited from. We owe them a great deal. They even gave me quarters for a payphone.”

    Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This guy let his freaken’ phone die. That’s why he didn’t pick up when I tried calling him.”

    “I forgot,” Castiel protested. “We weren’t quite so cellular reliant in those days. I didn’t know you’d change your mind so quickly. Nor did I have a clue you were so worried. How was I to know you’d started a full fledged manhunt?”

    Dean gave the lens his best, weariest expression, pointing a finger at his husband. “This guy calls me an hour after sundown, on a payphone, and you know what I get? ‘Hello’. That’s it. No ‘I’m alive’, no ‘I got kidnapped by hippies’. Just ‘Hello, Dean. Where are you?’” He mimicked Castiel’s deeper tones when he said it.

    “I apologized for worrying him and told him where I was. If the police hadn’t already been informed of the situation he probably would have gotten arrested that night. Missouri and Pamela had to leave before they got there. I wish you could have met them in person.”

    “I pulled into this diner just sitting in the middle of nowhere, and he’s standing outside the payphone like he’s waiting for a bus.”

    Castiel smiled faintly. He remembered, all too well. Standing next to the worn doors of the phone booth, the night wind stirring his hair and coat. The Impala roaring up the road, her breaks shrieking as Dean whipped into the parking lot ten feet from where he stood, her headlights flashing across him. Her engine was still rumbling when Dean got out, running around her hood and sprinting across the short distance. Castiel remembered being surprised, taking a step back before Dean threw his arms around him. If they hadn’t run into the phonebooth they would have both fallen to the asphalt, but instead they remained upright as Dean hugged him tight.

    “Dean? Are you alright?”

    For a moment he hadn’t answered, and when he did his voice had cracked. “The hell, Cas? Thought something had happened to you.”

    He’d reached up, wrapping one arm around Dean and patting his back with the other. “I’m fine. Are _you_ alright?”

    “I will be, so long as you don’t do that again.”

    “Dean, I…I’m sorry for worrying you. And the things I said.”

    “So am I.” Dean’s eyes had been damp when he’d stepped back, gripping him by the shoulders. “You sure you’re good?”

    “Yes, I’m sure. Have you eaten yet?”

    “What? No, I’ve been kinda busy.”

    Castiel had smiled, bending to pick up his bag with one hand and lacing their fingers together with the other. As he’d led Dean back towards the diner he’d said, “Come on. I’ll explain while you eat. They have good pie.”

    “Cas?”

    His head jerked up slightly. “Yes?”

    Dean was frowning at him, worry in his eyes. “What’s got you thinking?”

    “Nothing. Just, remembering. You were saying?”

    “You dragged me inside and wouldn’t tell me what the hell you’d been up to until I ate.”

    “Of course. You’re very grumpy when you’re hungry. And they had good pie.”

    “Yes they did. The rest of the trip wasn’t quite so bad.”

    “We did fight less after that,” Castiel recalled. “We still disagreed, argued, but we were careful not to let it escalate. We still don’t go to bed angry. Highly recommended for a successful relationship.”

    Dean cracked a smile. “Yeah, what he said. The rest of the trip went fine. Biggest problem we had was when we got lost in Palo Alto.”

    “Yes, but we didn’t let it escalate. Spending some time with Sam was nice too. I’d never met him before then.”

    “Sammy thought you were awesome. When we left you had the baby brother stamp of approval. We circled back through Lawrence on the way home, saw mom and Jo while dad was at work. They liked you too.”

    Castiel nodded slowly. “Yes. I found it highly amusing that they had a running pool going on when you’d bring a boy home. Things were going well until…..”

    “Until dad came home early,” Dean finished in a low voice. “I can edit that part out.”

    “My apologies.”

    “No, it’s fine.” Dean took a deep breath and managed a very convincing smile. “Yeah, mom won the pot. Your mom was classier about it. She heard you were bringing someone home and she baked a pie. Why couldn’t you have inherited her baking skills?”

    “You enjoy being in the kitchen too much,” Castiel discounted. “Besides, that’s how she bribes us into visiting during Thanksgiving.”

    “And she always gives us two for the road,” Dean recalled with a dreamy expression.

    “I believe that answers their question, don’t you think?”

    “I think so. It boiled down to us being idiots and each of us getting a kick in the ass. Only differences is it was me running all over that damn desert while you got relationship counseling from some Baptist lesbians.”

    “You benefited from their advice too,” Castiel pointed out.

    “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dean grinned, shaking his head. His smile was genuine as he turned back to the camera. “That ended up being a little longer than I thought but I doubt you guys will complain. If you have any question requests feel free to re-tweet or comment down below. You know I love to hear from you guys. If you like what you see, like, comment, and subscribe down below. If you wanna see more Cas, he’s gonna need all the encouragement you can give him. Stay safe, Gotham!”

    Castiel waited until the camera was off to ask, “Really?”

    “What?”

    Folding his arms uncomfortably Castiel admitted, “I don’t want comments asking for my presence on your videos.”

    “Why not?” Dean asked, sounding confused as he took down the camera.

    “They’re _your_ videos. I don’t mind helping, but I feel like I’ve been taking over.”

    “Nah. I still have a few others going, remember? This one’s special. If the interest fades I’ll let you know. In the meantime I’m more worried about that hike video.”

    “Considering how much you complain you always manage quite well.”

    “I’m always sore the next day.”

    “You had the same complaints on our honeymoon.”

    Castiel grinned as Dean marched off in a supposed huff, pink in his cheeks. He picked up their mugs of cold coffee, carrying them into the kitchen. There was no doubt in his mind the Impala video would go over well, but he was curious to see how this one would go over, and even if he had demanded a bribe he really was looking forward to their hike next weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don’t know, Yakitori is basically chicken kabobs over a charcoal fire.  
> Please review!


	3. VOL 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to littlekissesforcastiel, randomskittles, starlightoffandoms, Lar1964mg, Karategrl80, LeafZelindor, RooBear68, sleepyvixen, ginger_angel, RooBear68 and sleepyvixen!  
> Enjoy!

    It was always very odd, seeing his students outside of class. He knew they claimed it odd seeing a teacher in the outside world, but the feeling was mutual. Generally Castiel ignored them and they did the same, no problem. Sadly this was not the case today.

    He was studying the selection of jelly’s when someone asked carefully, “Castiel?”

    Castiel closed his eyes slowly, taking a moment to ready himself for the fourth “we’re big fans!” gush in the last two weeks. The first had been shortly after his initial appearance, when he’d been picking up plant food from the garden store after work. The other three had been over this last week. He’d gotten used to Dean getting the occasional attention, but he was still getting used to being included in that. Normally it didn’t annoy him, but he was still adapting, and he’d been hoping to get through this particular shopping trip without interruption.

    “Yes?” he asked, turning to face the speaker, face amicable.

    He didn’t recognize them, but the girl was wearing a ‘Sioux Falls High Cross-Country’ t-shirt. She had a big smile on her face and an equally beaming mother behind her. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you Mr. Novak. We, my mom and me, had just one quick question for you.”

    “Um, sure.” The politeness was a refreshing change, and while she did seem somewhat giddy there was genuine regret at interrupting him.

    “We were just wondering if you were going to keep doing videos with Dean? Because we just really love watching those but if you don’t wanna do them anymore that’s okay too.” The second sentence came out all in a rush, and took a moment for Castiel to decipher.

    When he did, though, he felt a blush warm his face. “I, um, don’t know. I’ve just been taking it one video at a time. I suppose as long as a significant portion of his viewers enjoy my presence….”

    He trailed off when he saw Dean round the isle’s end with their cart, a knowing grin crossing his husband’s face when he recognized the situation. “Meet some fans, Cas?”

    Castiel was truly impressed. The teenager’s squeal was almost inaudible as she swung around to see Dean there too. But it was her mother who spoke up, politely introducing them and asking for a picture. As Dean took selfies with the duo Castiel smiled fondly, shaking his head and adding two jars of jelly to their cart. One of grape, one of strawberry. For variety.

    When they were alone again, likely so the pictures could be posted as fast as the Wi-Fi connection allowed to Lucy’s social media account, Castiel relayed her question to Dean.

    “See? What’d I tell you? They love you.”

    “She didn’t squeal when she saw me,” Castiel pointed out as they reached the granola bar section.

    “She’s probably seen you around school. How many of these did you say we needed again?”

    “Several.” After a moment of studying the shelves Castiel decided, “Select four, I think. We won’t use them all tomorrow but you complained that we only had one flavor last time.”

    “It wasn’t even a good flavor,” Dean grumbled, eyeing the selection before them.

    “So you say. Did you get the lunch meat?”

    “And the cheese,” Dean assured him, taking down a box.

    When Castiel was satisfied with that, they moved on to jerky. Then to trail mix and dried fruit. Only when Castiel was satisfied that they were stocked on the proper fuel for tomorrow did he agree to head to the checkout. He didn’t always join Dean on these grocery runs, particularly since he only seemed to annoy his husband, but this was something he needed to have a say in. If Dean was left to the task he’d come back with travel packs of cookies, every single flavor of jerky they had in stock, and little else.

    It wasn’t until they were driving home that Dean asked, “Have you gotten used to it yet?”

    “What?”

    “Getting recognized in public.”

    “Not outside of school,” Castiel admitted.

    “Yeah, but you have the power there. It only half counts.”

    “I suppose. Have you gotten used to it?”

    “As long as they’re not obnoxious.”

    “The ones today were nice.”

    “Yes,” Castiel agreed. “If those were the only types of fan you had I would be much less adverse to the idea of recognition.”

    “Most of them are like Lucy,” Dean assured him.

    “Good.”

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    That afternoon, Castiel busied himself in their backyard once the sun started to go down. As soon as the heat wasn’t quite so brutal he pulled on a pair of gardening gloves and buried his hands in the dirt. It was soothing to him, like Dean working on Baby. He even wore the broad brimmed straw hat that Dean had given to him shortly after they’d bought this house. It had been given as a joke, Dean teasing him about being the little old lady who liked to tend her flowers. Castiel hadn’t understood the amusement, but it did keep direct sun off his face and neck so he made use of it.

    He was pulling up weeds from his bed of dahlia’s when their back door opened, boots making their way out onto the porch. Castiel only turned to look back when he heard slow footsteps making their way towards him. He frowned, sitting back on his heels and tipping his hat back a bit to get a better look at Dean’s face.

    “What’s wrong?”

    “I…just got off the phone with Sammy.” Dean lowered himself down, sitting in the grass next to his husband, a beer dangling from one hand. He had an oddly distant look on his face, one Castiel wasn’t used to seeing.

    “Did something happen?”

    “You could say that.”

    Castiel waited patiently, fiddling with one of the weeds still in his hands. Words weren’t exactly Dean’s strong suit. He’d speak up when he could string them together in what he deemed to be a sufficient fashion.

    “Dad came to see him today.”

    At that Castiel felt his spine stiffen, hands tightening on the weed, jaw clinching. In truth he hadn’t known where exactly John Winchester was, and if any of Dean’s family knew they hadn’t shared. Castiel himself had only met the man once, when they’d been driving back from Palo Alto nine years ago. It hadn’t been a pleasant meeting, for many reasons.

    “Not sure how he tracked Sammy down, but uh….said he wanted to make amends. Even after he found out about Gabriel.”

    Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

    Sam had met Gabriel when they’d witnessed their brother’s ceremony, and apparently gotten along quite well. Well enough that they were currently sharing a house in northern Kansas, married five years. Sam had gotten his law degree and was working at his own practice now, while Gabriel ran the best candy and sweet shop that side of the Mississippi. Considering John’s reaction when he found out about Castiel, it was a genuine shock that he hadn’t walked away a second time.

    “Really. Shocked me too. Especially since they could never be in the same room five minutes without arguing.”

    “Did he?”

    “What?”

    “Make amends.”

    Dean’s eyes got distant again. “Dunno. Sam mentioned he might be coming here next. He hasn’t gone home yet, not sure if mom would let him through the door. I guess he ain’t either, so he’s starting with us kids.”

    Well, at least John’s sense of self-preservation had improved. It had been somewhat lacking the day he’d come home to find Dean and his boyfriend making a visit. While he’d guessed, Castiel hadn’t had confirmation until that day just how emphatic John was about heterosexuality. Either Mary hadn’t noticed, or hadn’t wanted to notice, that all three times John had caught wind of Dean deviating from his idea of the straight and narrow it he’d corrected it with a beating. By the time he was seventeen this hadn’t resulted in the ‘corrected’ behavior he’d wanted, but rather a son who was very skilled at keeping things from his parents. Sam had favored girls more, so there was less fuel to his fire, but he hadn’t been opposed to guys either. Dean hadn’t been so lucky.

    Considering it was nearly a decade ago, Castiel remembered that day very well. Remembered sitting on Mary’s couch, a cup of lemonade clutched in his hands, simultaneously giddy and nervous. She’d raised her eyebrows at Dean’s tentative introduction, but still invited them in and fed them pie. She’d asked him questions, where he was from, what he was studying, and the like. Jo seemed irrationally pleased to find her elder brother had fallen head over ass for another guy, something about a yaoi faze she was going through.

    They’d been having a nice conversation, Dean grumbling as they ganged up on him regarding his lacking table manners the moment he had his favorite food in front of him, when the door opened. Castiel hadn’t known why at the time, but every singe family member had frozen, Dean going ridged at his side. At first things had been tense but not explosive. Castiel had initially introduced himself as a friend from college before anyone could say otherwise, but before he could shake John’s hand Dean had grabbed it, lacing their fingers together. Even before he’d stated the truth John’s face had gone red. Amid all the yelling that ensued as Dean stood up for both himself and his then-boyfriend, the extent of John’s prejudice had come to light. Mary had joined the argument at that point, furious that he’d raised a hand to their son. Castiel had tried to stay out of it as much as he could, but then John had turned on him, apparently convinced he’d somehow managed to do something to his son. Just when it looked like he was about to start swinging Mary had kicked him out of the house with an ultimatum. He could either accept all his children as they came and come back in the morning, or he could be a stubborn bastard about it and come back in the morning to pack up his things. His response had been to disown Dean. Mary had promised to have all his things boxed up in the yard by morning.

    However bad Castiel had felt about the whole thing, he knew it had hit Dean hard. Despite everything his father had done, he’d still respected him on some level. Looked up to him. Hadn’t been able to help it. To hear the utter disgust in John’s voice as he stated that he only had one son had broken his heart. Castiel had seen it, for all Dean had never admitted it.

    For what it had been worth, Mary had been supportive all the way, never letting John back into the house after that. Every other year they rotated between their in-laws for Christmas and Thanksgiving. This year they were due to drive to Lawrence for Christmas, where she’d be waiting with a tree and at least one pie already made. She’d even taken up the age-old mother-in-law tradition of dropping hints at wanting grandchildren.

    “Does Jo know?” Castiel asked at last.

    “He said he was gonna call her next, but we’re closer so….”

    “What do you think brought this on?”

    Dean snorted. “Alcoholics Anonymous? How the hell should I know?”

    “If he is serious about this…will you turn him away?”

    “Would you?”

    “My father isn’t your father. They need to be handled differently.”

    “Big help, Cas, thanks.”

    “From what I understand, your father doesn’t make decisions like this easily,” Castiel continued patiently. “You said so yourself, he’s a very stubborn man. Apologizing for anything doesn’t come easily. Particularly something of this magnitude. Whether you choose to listen is up to you, I will support your decision regardless.”

    Dean downed what was left of his beer in one long draft. “Just listening don’t mean I gatta accept it. Think it might be worth hearing what the old man has to say?”

    “Should he show up on our doorstep as he did Sam’s…perhaps. I’m curious to see what caused this breech of silence after nearly ten years,” Castiel admitted. “But as I said, it’s your choice. Ask him in for coffee and I’ll turn on the pot. Tell him to get off our lawn and I won’t complain if you slam the door.”

   That got a tiny smile out of his husband. “And sound like a grumpy old man?”

    “Not yet. Give it another few years.”

    “A few?” Dean demanded, eyes narrowing.

    “Of course. Someone’s going to have to keep the neighborhood hooligans off my flowerbeds.”

    “Yeah? And where’re you gonna be?”

    “Watching the bees.”

    “Right. Forgot. Watching the bees,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “You really wanna be getting dirty?”

    “I don’t see why not.”

    “We’re gonna get plenty dirty tomorrow too,” Dean reminded him.

    “Exactly. Weeding needs to be done and I doubt I’ll have the energy when we get back,” Castiel reminded him, turning back to his work. “Did you get everything ready?”

    “Everything that can’t wait until morning. Sandwiches are made, backpacks are packed, the canteens are cleaned, the camera is fully charged, and Baby’s got a full tank. Do we really have to go all the way out to River Park?”

    “It has the best view once you make it up the mountain. Also it shouldn’t be as crowded. I thought it might be more conducive if there weren’t many people around.”

    “Yeah, I guess,” Dean admitted.

    “I think it’ll be worth the Impala getting a little dusty in the dirt parking lot,” Castiel told him gently.

    “I guess.”

 

**BREAK/BREAK\BREAK**

 

    “Hey, get a shot of the sign as we’re going in.”

    Castiel obligingly took out the camera, removing the lens cap and turning it on. They were getting close, and the sun had just cleared the horizon. It looked quite picturesque as it cleared the hills, and Castiel made sure to get a good shot of it before aiming the camera at the park’s sign as they passed it. Then he turned it on Dean, saying, “Smile, Dean. You’ve had your coffee.”

    Dean grimaced, smothered a yawn with the back of one hand, then turned to give the camera a weary smile. “Not enough, babe.”

    “You’ll wake up once we get walking,” Castiel reminded him, turning the lens forward again as they rolled through the gates.

    There were only a few cars when Dean parked, and they were all close to the trail that led to campgrounds. As they got out Castiel shouldered his backpack, slowly panning around to take in the area. Dean had decided to try cutting together clips during the start of the video with a voiceover recorded later, maybe start the video per usual then cut to what they got out here.

    “Ready?” Dean asked as he locked the Impala.

    Smiling, Castiel led the way towards the hiking trail. Their plan was to hike up the trail this morning then head back in the afternoon. If all went well they’d actually make it to the top of the ridge before Dean could beg a lunch break. Last time they’d done this particular trail he’d managed to go through their lunch and most of their snacks by the time they reached the viewpoint. Castiel was bound and determined that they make it to the trail’s end by the time he fed his husband lunch, and that they didn’t run out of food halfway back down the trail. Dean had been surly and hungry by the time they’d driven home last time. Accordingly all the food and the small padded lunch bag with their sandwiches was in his backpack while Dean carried a majority of their other supplies.

    “Do you wanna get a shot as we’re going in?”

    Rather than answer outright, Castiel aimed the lens back at his husband and gave him a thumbs-up.

    “So here we are, Cas dragged my butt out of bed at o’ dark thirty. And he says he ain’t feeding me again until we get to the third mile marker.”

    “If I don’t limit your nutrition consumption it’ll all be gone far too soon, and it’ll slow you down.”

    “Yeah, yeah, yeah. See what I have to put up with?”

    “You’re welcome.”

    Castiel smiled, rotating the camera so it was aimed as his face. “He’s just grumpy because he only time for one cup of coffee. It’s a beautiful day, it’s only supposed to get up to eight-five degrees-

    “You said it was just gonna get to eighty!” Dean protested from behind him.

    “That was Monday. Today’s Saturday,” Castiel protested innocently. “Weather is changeable.”

    “Exactly. I thought you’d checked it sooner.”

    “There’s only five percent chance of rain and there’s supposed to be a clear view when we get to the lookout point,” Castiel continued, ignoring him. “And if we’re lucky we might see some wildlife.”

    As he turned off the camera Dean asked, “Ain’t there a bunch of flowers on this route?”

    “Yeah, why?”

    “Mention it.”

    “Why?”

    “Because you’re excited about it.”

    Shrugging, Castiel obliged. He kept the camera off but in-hand, just in case. Over the next few hours he got various clips as they made their way up the trail. He made sure to try and catch every bit of wildlife, along with a wide variety of flora and fauna. So this didn’t slow them down, he took to filming as he walked, aiming the lens at the prettier flowers or more interesting plants. He would also provide updates, such as announcing, “Two miles down!” and catching Dean’s grimace on film.

    At the third and ninth mile markers they stopped for snacks, but they paused more regularly to stay hydrated. A few times Dean took the camera as they walked, doing a spiel of his own and at one point reneging a story from one of the last times they’d come up here. Namely the time he’d been in charge of checking the weather and forgotten. Castiel hadn’t been overly thrilled to be huddling under the branches of an oak while a storm rolled through. Then when it’d stopped they’d had to walk seven miles back down to the parking lot in soaking clothes.

    After they stopped on the third mile marker Castiel handed over the camera, and as they got going Dean checked the list of questions on his phone. The idea was to answer them as they climbed, between shots of everything else. Dean had already told his story as a means to pass the time before he was allowed to eat again.

    “Okay, first question,” he announced as they got back on the trail, camera aimed at Castiel. “’Who’s more likely to be running late?’”

    Castiel glanced back to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you picked that one.”

    “Why?”

    “You’re never on time for anything.”

    “You’re kidding, right? If you get absorbed in something you only come out again when you get hungry.”

    “At least I’m never late to an appointment,” Castiel argued. “Barring unforeseen circumstances I’m at work on time each day and I arrive at my appointed time when I have a doctor’s visit. Unlike some people, who insist on arriving five minutes late.”

    “Hey, if I say I’m gonna be somewhere I’m there,” Dean fired back, for all he was grinning behind the camera. “I don’t make a date then call three hours later because I got sucked into some documentary about shrunken heads.”

    “That was one time!”

    “Right. You didn’t wait three hours to remember you had a date, but it took over a year before you started remembering without me having to text you an hour before.”

    Castiel made a face. “I’m punctual when it matters. When there were reservations or a movie with a specific time I never ran late.”

    “Just ‘cause there’s a set time you gatta be there don’t mean that’s the only time it matters.”

    “I thought we’d agreed to disagree,” Castiel reminded him.

    “I know that. They didn’t,” Dean stated, then turned off the camera.

    He waited until the next mile marker to move on to the second question, passing Castiel the camera.

    As he slowed his pace, walking alongside his husband, Dean read off, “’Who does most of the housework?’ That’d be me.”

    “Yes, I’m afraid even when I’m inclined to help I rarely do a good job,” Castiel commented wryly.

    “I’ve never said that,” Dean protested.

    “No, you simply come back behind me and correct everything. You put dishes in their proper place, re-fold shirts, get whatever I missed while dusting.”

    “I’m sorry, Cas, but I can never find anything when you put ‘em away,” Dean cajoled. “And clothes wrinkle easy enough without you wadding them up.”

    “You spend more time at home than I do, that’s why I haven’t complained much. When I am home the last thing I want to do is vacuum. It’s an agreeable arrangement.”

    The next mile Dean took back their camera, aiming it at Castiel as they approached a creek. It was shallow, only a few inches of running water skirting around large, flat stones. Last time it hadn’t been so dry, and naturally Dean had fallen in, ass first.

    “’If it were possible, what would you eat every day?’ Oh, that’s easy. Pie, dude.”

    “Yes, I’m aware. Each year for his birthday part of the celebration includes a week of pie.”

    Dean chuckled. “Yeah, and you make me a whole day of pie. Quiche for breakfast, chicken pot pie for lunch, and shepherd’s pie for dinner. Plus two homemade lattice topped pies. You never mentioned how you learned how to make all that.”

    Castiel blushed, devoting all his attention to getting across the rocks. “I, um, spoke extensively with your mother.”

    “When? Would ‘a thought it’d take days to get you trained.”

    Turning on the opposite bank to give him a dirty look, Castiel informed him, “Remember that camping trip you went on with Sam the summer succeeding our marriage? When I spent the weekend with Mary after she broke her arm?”

    “Yeah, why?

    “We had three days, Dean. Your mother is a very effective teacher.” Grimacing, glancing down at his fingers, he added wryly, “She would hit my hands with a wooden spoon whenever I made a mistake and gave me laminated, excruciatingly detailed recipes.”

    Dean laughed, joining him on the opposite bank. “That sounds about right. How come you never told me?”

    “I never saw the need,” Castiel shrugged. Focusing on the lens he informed it, “None of you have ever seen him when he walks into a kitchen full of pie. Unless you’re related to him. I imagine it’s akin to a child waking on Christmas morning to find a puppy in their stocking.”

    Dean grumbled incoherently, cheeks a little more pink than the exertion would warrant, before raising his voice back to normal volume. “You ate the same lunch every freaken’ day before I started making you stuff.”

    “I am more content with monotony in my diet than you are,” Castiel admitted. “But I think the one thing I would eat every day if I were able would be honey.”

    “On what?”

    “Anything. Though I’d rather just eat it straight from the spoon. The taste is purer that way.”

    “Knew it.”

    “Of course you did.”

    One mile later, Castiel took back the camera as Dean read, “’If you ever had to bail each other out of jail, what would it be for?’ I figured they meant if you had to bail me out, what is it I would have done, and then vice versa.”

    Castiel snorted. “If I ever have to bail you out of jail it will likely be for aggravated assault. Possibly murder. In which case I’d be putting our funds towards getting a good lawyer, not getting you out.”

    “Wait, what?” Dean balked. “Why?”

    “Because if anyone should ever wreck Baby, be it in a fender-bender or a ten-car-pileup, you would likely be inclined to pulverize them. With extreme prejudice. The authorities don’t often take kindly to people who pound another person’s face in.”

    Dean opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned for a minute, then a reluctant grimace crossed his face. “Damn, I guess you’re right. But I know what I’d be bailing you out for.”

    Castiel raised his eyebrows, waiting.

    Grinning, his husband stated, “Either breaking and entering or shoplifting.”

    After a moment of blank staring, Castiel demanded, “Why in the world would I do either of those things?”

    Dean laughed. “You wouldn’t, not intentionally. Remember that time I was out of town and you forgot your keys?”

    Understanding struck, and Castiel made a face. “Unfortunately.”

    Aiming the lens at his husband Dean explained, “I went out to see Sam for a weekend a few years back. I left after Cas had gone to work and he brought the wrong set of car keys. One has all the keys on it, the other just has the car stuff on it. He grabbed the wrong set, and he forgot where we stashed the spare house key. But Gabriel taught him how to pick locks when they were growing up, and I guess he still keeps some tools on hand. The new neighbors across the street see him picking the front door and called the cops on him. Thankfully they guy they sent out is a buddy of mine and believed Cas here when he explained why he was breaking into his own house.”

    “So you think if I forget my keys again- “

    “When.”

    “What?”

    _“When_ you forget your keys again,” Dean corrected. “You’ve done it before, that was just the only time I wasn’t around to let you in.”

    “Fine. What about shoplifting?”

    “Watch.”

    Castiel groaned, head hanging briefly as his husband explained.

    “This was last year, I think,” Dean recalled. “We were in this jewelry shop, the plan was to find mom something special for her fiftieth birthday. He wands off and starts looking at watches.”

    “I was looking for a present for _you,”_ Castiel argued, miffed. “You shouldn’t get such amusement out of this.”

    “I know, I’m sorry, but it’s still kinda funny,” Dean protested. “He’s looking at some of the displays, but when he sees me coming he panics and just shoves the one he’s looking at into his pocket. I start asking for his opinion on some stuff and he forgets he has it. Then when we try to leave the alarms go off, and the shop’s rent-a-cop just about tackles him to the floor. Cas is swearing up and down he didn’t take anything when they find that watch, and I think they still would have had him arrested if he didn’t have this look on his face when the rent-a-cop fished it out. So yeah, you’d get arrested for something like breaking into your own house or accidently stealing something.”

    Castiel refused to dignify that with a comment, but as miffed as he was by this revelation he knew Dean was probably right.

    Eventually Dean passed him the camera, checking his phone for the next question.

    “’Who has the best fashion sense?’ I think that’s me.”

    “You wear jeans and t-shirts,” Castiel protested. “I don’t think that counts as an evolved sense of fashion.”

    “When I met you, you had this drawer devoted to ridiculously bright sweatshirts. You wear the same stuff to work everyday because you _know_ you’re fashion blind.”

    “Next question,” Castiel stated stiffly.

    “’Who is more prone to losing things?’ That’s you.”

    “I beg your pardon?”

    “You’d lose your phone if you weren’t so attached to the thing. As it is I have to call you once a week so you can figure out where it got left.”

    Turning the camera so he could look into it Castiel stated, “This from the man who keeps buying earbuds because his are constantly disappearing.”

    “At least I ain’t losing the expensive ones,” Dean protested.

    “No, but I’ve been using the same set for the last two years. It would have been three, but you decided to barrow mine once then lost those too.”

    “Okay, next question! ‘Who kills the spiders?’ I kill them, Cas catches them then ‘releases them into the wild.’”

    “You don’t need to say it that way,” Castiel objected, trying not to pout.

    “Like what?”

    “Condescending. I don’t appreciate it.”

    “Alright, I’m sorry. You value life more than I do, how’s that?”

    “Fine,” Castiel relented. He glanced at the camera, then noted, “I thought we were going to try stretching this out more.”

    “Yeah, well, we didn’t. I was gonna edit everything together later anyway. Wanna just keep going or give it a break?”

    “How many do we have left?”

    “Three. How many more miles?”

    “What’s that got to do with it?”

    “I might need the distraction.”

    “Very well.” It seemed unwise to answer Dean’s question. As it was he still groaned when they passed the next mile marker.

    He waited another two miles before passing Dean the camera and asking, “What’s the next question?”

    Dean lifted the camera, then relayed, “’Who goes to bed first?’”

    “Usually me, but I get up before you do,” Castiel noted.

    “Unless you’re up late grading stuff. Then you sleep through most of the morning.”

    “Considering how often I have to get up early I like to sleep when I can,” Castiel defended.

    “I get it, trust me. And that kind answers the next question too, ‘Who likes to sleep in?’”

    “You like to sleep in too, you just have more opportunity to do so.”

    “True. Last question, ‘Who was pickier when you were finding a house?’”

    Castiel chuckled. “That was you.”

    “You could have been more choosy,” Dean protested. “Aside from the price you just cared about not having a long commute to work.”

    “Not true. I also wanted at least two bathrooms and three bedrooms. And a large enough backyard for my bees.”

    “Which is still a low bar.”

    “I thought you’d appreciate my lack of preference,” Castiel sighed. “It gave you free reign, I simply retained veto power. I don’t recall you complaining at the time.”

    “You were working a new job, I figured you were stressed enough without me bitching about you not taking more interest in house hunting. Sue me.”

    Castiel paused at that. “Really?”

    “Yeah. Why?”

    “You never mentioned that before.”

    “It never came up,” Dean said uncomfortably, then turned off the camera.

    The camera only came out a few more times after that, to capture a hawk taking flight and go over some flowers Castiel hadn’t expected to bloom so early. They reached the lookout point around noon as Castiel had hoped. He made sure to get a good, panoramic shot of the whole thing before sitting back to enjoy it himself. There was no one else up there at the time, so he and Dean had the place to themselves. They sat on a rock and took in the view as they ate sandwiches and pork rinds, staying nearly an hour before they headed back down again. Castiel would have liked to of stayed longer, but some more hikers were coming up and Dean was getting tired.

    So, as he had on the way up, he led the way down the trail. It didn’t take as long, the going was downhill and Dean was motivated. By the time they made it home both were worn out, trudging up the stairs to shower and change into clean clothes. After six rounds of rock-paper-scissors came up a tie Dean just got into the shower first. Unwilling to wait Castiel joined him, grumbling at him to move over. The space was big enough, and even if they’d had the energy they’d found out the hard way years before that shower sex was not what’d it cracked up to be. Castiel just wished the discovery hadn’t cost two banged skulls and three sprained body parts between them.

    Afterward he cleaned the containers and thermoses while Dean made dinner, grilled cheeses and tomato soup. They ate in contented silence, then put their feet up for a few episodes of Game of Thrones before lurching off to bed. Dean didn’t even try to upload the footage they’d gotten, putting it off until the next day.

    All in all it was a very long, tiring day. It was also one of the most enjoyable Castiel had had in some time.


End file.
